


blue boy.

by nitroish



Series: bbs stuff. [6]
Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Angst, Loneliness, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 05:29:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18866698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nitroish/pseuds/nitroish
Summary: a collection of lonely notices.





	1. ONE.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at dambbrother on tumblr !

he steps into the house, quiet as ever, yet also never quite that quiet. the house is silent, so he must be too. its silent as his boots are slipped off, carefully and slowly, each tie untied with heavy, dirty fingers. his shoulders weigh on his back, his head weighs on his shoulders, and the world weighs on his head. hes so tired. he closes his eyes as he leans against the wall, swears to move after a few seconds. he just wants a moment break.

but he opens his eyes almost two minutes later, head jerking back and his eyes wide for a second before the drowsiness kicks back in. he scolds himself and finishes taking his second boot off, lining them neatly by the door. he shoves his house keys into his pocket, hears them ring against each other momentarily. he pushes off the wall and slides his feet against the rug hed laid in front of the door, over the dark grey-brown wooden floor plan, and one step forward the house opens up immediately to the dining room and kitchen area to the right and in front of him, livingroom to the left. its big, and he knows its even bigger than this further on in.

hes the only one here, though. the only one that lives in this big house, and the knowledge of such backhands him in the face every time he comes back here alone, or thinks about him being the only one here in this space. this big open area with no one to live in it, and delirious doesnt know why he thought this house was the best choice. its too big, too echoey, and he swears he hears his own thoughts when he thinks because its so quiet and unlived in. so new he sometimes thinks he still smells the smell of new furniture and wood you can pick out in stores. maybe he thought hed invite people over more, or hed have someone to share the house with - a roommate maybe?- but no. hes alone in a two story place that has too many unoccupied rooms and too many seats that he himself will never use.

his hands twitch as he stands here and stares at the house he owns, the house he picked out and furnished part of. (some of the guest rooms are empty, other than a laid out futon or bed. he didnt know what to do with the rooms, but he thought to put a bed in there just in case. just in case what - dont ask. he doesnt know.)

the living room is nice. the windows show the front yard, but are also blocked by trees and flower bushes the last owner let grow over. the curtains drape over them, letting light in but permits no one to see clearly inside. the couch can hold many, it sits partially under the wall of windows and creeps out at a ninety degree angle from that, making a makeshift wall to the living room that didnt exist before, and has a place at both ends where you can lay out. [the couch set had come with footrests too, but delirious has those in the middle with a piece of smooth wood with raised sides set over them and secured in place. a makeshift coffee table. hed forgotten to get a table for this room, so he had just decided to improvise. it worked out well.] from there, theres a tv sitting on a wooden stand that sits against the wall in the middle front of the couch, angled slightly so you can see from each angle of the couch. the stand hed found almost sort of matched with the rest of the grey-brown wooden floors. the couch was littered with blankets and there werent any small square throw pillows decorating said couch. in their stead were just plain pillows. (they were comfier than the rough throw pillows that the couch had been advertised with. so sue him.)

the room was simple. easy. plain but had a few flairs set here and there. blue and offwhite accents littered across the room on the pillow cases on the couch, the wax of a large candle he has settled in the corner of the room, the greyblue lamp shades. he keeps with it, too, keeps it clean and neat, despite it always being as such. its nice, and looks homey and comfortable. delirious know its comfortable, he messed around with what he wanted in his house at the store for a long ass time before choosing things to buy. (it was a slow, boring process. the heights of it was when he got to climb up ladders to get on top of the bunk beds.)

all of the seats, all of the comfortable shit in the room; delirious cant help but think theyll never meet their limit of use. unless luke comes over or something, he rarely sits in there to do much, most of his gaming things were in his actual gaming room down the hall. thats the room he uses most, he thinks, other than his actual bedroom. (lately, his game room door has been closed to the rest of the house, used briefly and quickly left afterward, and his bedroom is where he hides himself for most of the day. hes so drained, he feels like a broken rechargeable battery; its taking too long for him to recharge, too long for him to be able to speak again and again at length. maybe he isnt even charging sometimes. but he knows that hes tired, and everything feels off centered and nothing is right.)

so as he stands in the corner of the room, by the entrance, looking out over all of this space, and loneliness festers in his stomach and makes a home there. he feels heavier with it, and he tosses his bag onto the couch haphazardly and stares at nothing. then turns and falls forward over the back of the couch and plants himself there. lets himself sink into the soft fabric and soft cushions, drags a blanket from the back of the couch over and onto himself. digs his phone out of his hoodie pocket, looks at the lack of notifications from his friends. his phone feels heavy with the weight of nothing to say and nothing to warn and notify of, so he lets it fall onto the couch next to where his head lays and closes his eyes. he wants to sleep, so he does. there on the couch that gathers no company to it, in the room that holds no gatherings, in a house that knows no visitors.

loneliness begins to uncurl itself there in his body and grows slowly as a mass.


	2. TWO.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'its happening again', delirious thinks to himself. the get together of the year, the one most of his friends go to, where they talk and hang out together. where they mess around and act like themselves around each other in person, and delirious, once again, is taking no part in it.

'its happening again', delirious thinks to himself. the get together of the year, the one most of his friends go to, where they talk and hang out together. where they mess around and act like themselves around each other in person, and delirious, once again, is taking no part in it. luke plans on going this year as well, to hang out with the group, and delirious gives luke a tight hug outside the airport doors and tells him to send him blackmail material for later days. luke promises, and then hes off into the airport to go meet his friends on the other end of the flight.

and jonathan is left behind. of course, because he chose this, because he doesnt want to go, so he wont, but he can't help but already miss luke and his company. because now hes here alone in north carolina without backup, without his support, without his best friend. he gets back into his car and sits there in the massive parking lot for awhile, in the passenger seat, where hed been sitting only minutes before talking to one of his closest friends. he stares at his hands for awhile, quiet and feeling empty. he closes his eyes and lets his legs stretch out into the leg space in front of him as he lays his chair back as far as it goes. stares at the ceiling of his car for awhile, thinking about how he could just lay here in this parking lot until luke got back. 

but he wont do that, and he only sits there with his eyes closed and his body empty from anything for another twenty minutes before he sits back up, fixes the chair and opens the door again. switches to the drivers seat and starts the car that is fuller than he is, less empty, more working and moving parts, more alive feeling than himself, and drives the forty minutes back home. when he parks, he gets out immediately, shoving the car door closed behind him as he fumbles with his keys and eventually unlocks his house and haphazardly steps in and slams the door behind him. hes being loud in this quiet house, and his chest grows tight when he realizes it. the unneeded loud boy is back in his quiet, too large house, and it reminds him, how he thinks he hears his breath echo around the room, how small he is in the house he lives in. it takes him a few long minutes to pause the tense stress in his shoulders and legs so that he can move and stop sporting himself on the wall.

a few minutes pass and - there. fine. cool. he takes his boots off, lines them by the door, and goes straight to his room, closes that door, and locks it as well; habitual. undresses, redresses in sweats and a hoodie that isnt his, and buries himself under the covers. there, he checks his phone as he plugs it in and replies to messages here and there. he has no recording sessions planned, already having prerecorded things with luke for the week - because he was going to be gone so they made sure to record enough for lukes channel ahead of time - so he shoves his arm under his pillow and closes his eyes once more. the thought of luke sends another pang of loneliness through his spine, the thought that now hes the only one he knows in this area excluding some neighbors hes not particularly close to. but hes alone, in this state, far away from the rest of his friends.

which is a dark, frightening thought now that he thinks deeper into it, which he figures he shouldnt have done, because he could just lay here for a week and stand up and possibly be fine, play it off and no one would be the wiser. he could go pick up luke and hang out, and pretend that he wasnt a sad idiot the entire time toonz was absent. maybe he could sleep for the whole week. he has the videos ready to be posted, queued up and processed, so he doesnt exactly need to get up yet this week. he takes his phone and opens the alarm app, and adds one for exactly a week in the future, just to see what he in the future might do with it. he turns his phone back off and puts it on the floor. closes his eyes, resituates himself, gets comfier than he was before he moved, and lets out a breath.

he falls asleep with thoughts about his friends and how much fun they will be having without him in the upcoming week floating around in his head.

the loneliness grows and bleeds through into his veins and seeps into his muscles and bones, into his ligaments and joints, dying everything a black colour as it soaks into everything it can.


	3. THREE.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> when he wakes up, he lays in the quiet darkness for however long he feels like it.

when he wakes up, he lays in the quiet darkness for however long he feels like it. its still dark outside, and eventually he fumbles around his bed and then the floor for his phone. he turns it on and theres the date and time, shining brightly in his face. he had been asleep for almost twenty hours now, and he breathes in and closes his eyes against the still shining light of his phone. he sits up, tugs the charger out of his phone and stands. stretches his arms above his head, listens to his back crack a few times. nice.

he shuffles out of his room and into the dark hall, flips the switch to the kitchen area on and then turns the dial for the brightness down. fumbles around with the coffee maker before he finally can hop up onto the counter in waits for his coffee to be made. he unlocks his phone and runs his thumb down the side a few times, feeling the bumps of his case against the pad of his finger, and he notes that his shoulders are tense and he feels like hes on the verge of screaming, but he doesnt scream, he refuses to shake, and he pulls the notification bar down with another quick swipe of his thumb.

the first, and latest, notification is from luke himself. saying that he landed safely, and delirious taps on it to open the rest of the messages from his friend. he reads that luke found the group waiting for him, and then a concern as to where delirious is - is he okay ? - and delirious smiles just a bit at the screen. replies with 'i just woke up' and 'im fine!'

he moves onto the group chats hes in, where hes immediately slammed in the face with selfies and loud, capital letters. he sees excited exclamation marks and loud questioning as to where each other is. bright smiles, happy eyes, blurry scenes from how much their hands are moving around in blatant excitement of seeing their friends after so long. he sees his friends smiles reaching their eyes, their hair messy and eyes tired from the flights or drives, but still radiant and blinding.

delirious doesnt hesitate to download all his friends smiles and excited, now frozen in time, hand movements.

the ding! from his keurig scares the shit out of him, and he sets his phone down in favour of grabbing his mug and immediately sipping the fresh, burning coffee. and yeah, it burned, but he needs something to wash down the thick feeling that can be nothing good that threatens to climb his throat. he leans over his counter, settling down on his elbows next to his phone. puts the mug down and tells himself he wont take another drink until its cooled down.

another image message is sent and jon sees the notification in his and lukes mini server that consists of only a few others, noting squirrel and gorilla. he absently clicks on the server and watches the image load. hes greeted with luke grinning at the camera with squirrel and gorilla next to him, all grin and giggles, bunny ears behind heads and tongues poking out with laughter. delirious taps the image, stares at it as his finger expertly navigates to the download button in the corner. 

he cant help but smile at his friends antics and sends off a message that he hopes theyre having a great time. they all respond with like replies, bold and italicised exclamation marks and delirious can hear their voices in his head as he reads the messages to himself.

then someone sends 'wish you were here, dude! everyone says hi!! :)' with a carefully framed photo of everyone gathered around a large, long table, messing around as they eat at a dimmed light restaurant, and it fucks with delirious previously semi okay state. not that it was their fault, not at all, and delirious completely blames himself for this happening as he stares at the photo he didnt take and he isnt in.

and thats when it hits him again that he isnt there. he isnt there, with his friends, because instead hes here at home, alone. he leans up and pushes off the counter quickly, somehow managing to avoid hitting his head on the cabinets above his head, and grabs his coffee. he leaves his phone on the counter where it is and walks around the kitchen island and sits on the other side of it, far away from his phone and far away from everyones faces. the move reminds him how far he is away from his friends on sight, how far his phone is that he cant reach it, yet close enough that he could see them. his friends are close enough to where he can see them, online, through pictures, happy and having a good time, and yet hes farther away than before now. because his phone is out of reach. he swallows the lump in his throat and stares as his phone light dims and then becomes nothing as black takes over the screen due to inactivity.

delirious vaguely thinks 'i could do that, too,' and drinks the rest of his coffee. then he tips the mug and lets it go, watching as it turns around and around - until it slows and delirious stops it before it can make the annoying sound at the end. the noise carries though the kitchen, in the quiet house, and he shoves the mug away so it slides down close to the edge on the other end, then watches it slowly stop and sit there, unmoving and quiet now. the silence of the house deafens him and he looks back at his phone where it lays on the counter.

jon imagines being there with them, having fun and smiling until his face hurts. he thinks about it so long, so in depth, lost in his mind and jumbled, wishful thoughts, that he doesnt realize hes crying until he snaps back into his own eyes and he realizes he cant see, vision blurry and cheeks wet. he looks down, then around, and raises his hands up to his eyes and wipes his face, and somehow that breaks the dam holding the water in, and he lets out a sob. he lays his head down on the counter, using one arm as a headrest. he lets the other curl up and rests his hand on the side and back of his neck, covering the side of his face. his hand is cold, and he closes his eyes.

more tears fall there as he sits alone in his kitchen, in his house, and he cant stop them, and he totally doesnt think about what his friends might have been doing to comfort him if he were there with them.

the thought totally doesnt make him sob harder.

he feels pathetic.

loneliness drowns the rest of jonathan a dark black, the ugly colour soaking into the mans being. it seeps from his eyes through loose tears, leaving black marks streaking down the mans face and turning his eyes red with irritation and black with grey filled thoughts.

it spreads across the counter where tears had fallen, festers on his fingers and hands where he had wiped tears off his shadowed face, and lets itself grow and climb his skin, ready to smother him and turn his world the ugly black and grey it thrives in.


	4. FOUR.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> its been five days since luke left for the convention.

its been five days since luke left for the convention.  
five days of existing alone in a house thats too big for just himself to be in.  
five days full of painful moments in which he either cries or lays on the floor, couch, or his bed, completely numb to the world around him.

he finds himself distancing himself from the internet, forgoing twitter and looking through discord in favour of messing around with editing softwares and opens a google doc to slam his hands down onto the keyboard on. to watch the keyboards commands input themselves into the doc, letters arry and random. then he deletes it all when he doesnt like that doc anymore and moves onto another doc. luke would be concerned to see so many of these in his drive. luke would ask whats up and if he was alright. but lukes busy, so when delirious is done waiting for forty seven minutes to be up, he deletes them all and watches them disappear. nothing more to worry about.

despite his being offline most of the time, he does keep up his schedule for uploads to his account. luke and he have already done enough recording with each other before luke went to the convention with everyone. so delirious had content to upload, and it was fine. he has them scheduled and up at the time theyre meant to be and nothing has gone wrong with one of them yet, aside from a quick demonetization of one of his hyper jam videos. 'extensive cussing' or something. 'whatever,' delirious thinks. 'fuck it.'

but yeah, no. he hasnt been online that much. which is fine, considering everything. he has stuff done and nothing to worry about, really, but that also means he has time to think about shit, and thats never a good thing. so he mindlessly plays offline games, or online games with random people. makes temporary friendships for the game hes in and aims to please and not think. which works for awhile, of course, until, of course, delirious wishes he was playing with squirrel and gorilla too. which tumbles him into thinking about what theyre doing, so he grabs his phone after the match and turns it on, ready to peek at gorillas twitter for a quick second.

convenient timing; because its then that gorilla has decided to call him. delirious being delirious, picks up immediately and holds the phone up to his ear. he doesnt know what he expected, but he didnt expect to hear almost everyone on the other side of the phone. it was loud, and there was a slur in gorillas speech that made it obvious to what was going on on the other side of the phone. gorilla says his hello, and jon responds in kind with his own. he asks how its going, but gorilla doesnt hear him, or if he does he doesnt say anything to him. instead, his friend gets further from the phone and jon hears a few unintelligible words said and then hes being yelled 'hello' at from various people.

and then gorilla his laughing into the phone and then delirious is tearing up and laughs back, letting no one know about his crying. he gives nothing away in his mind, tells gorilla the answers to his questions, that yes, hes fine, hes been having a good time getting things done and is enjoying the alone time. he hears people in the background of the call, laughing and shouting with and at each other, having fun. delirious can imagine the smiles and darkened skin from blood rushing to the skin under the guise of alcohol and laughter. 

when delirious is finally able to tell gorilla goodnight and goodbye, to tell him to drink some water and get some rest, hes drained and the tears from before are dried up on his cheeks because he cant possibly cry when he feels so empty and alone. he presses the end call button and lets his phone drop onto the couch, out of the way and out of his hands so he can raise his palms to his eyes and lean over and rest his elbows on his knees, tired and cold.

he misses them.

he misses his friends so much and he wants to see them again and he wants to be there with them, having fun and messing around, but he just doesnt want to be there, at a convention, physically in front of millions of people, or in front of anyone. he doesnt want his face out there, he doesnt want to be out there in general, but he wants to hang out with his friends, and he wants to have fun with them, wants to be loud and giggly and radiant with them like they are with each other. but he doesnt want to be out there, he doesnt have to be, and so he wont be. it makes sense to him, and you dont have to get it, because delirious isnt you.

he closes his eyes and breathes in, lets it out, counts and does it again and then counts again, lets it out again, and continues so on and so forth. he eventually stands from the couch, doesnt forget to grab his phone and turn the lights off, and moves to his room. 

he stares at the ceiling above him for awhile, as he lays in bed, and feels his stomach twist in guilt when he thinks about asking his friends to come back home. and, 

\- oh, fuck - okay -

a ton of a few minutes later, he walks out of the bathroom, shoulders thrumming with tense nerves, chest constricted and stomach empty. his hands shake and he decides he doesnt want to stay in his room, so he and his tear filled eyes travel to his room where he snatches up the pillows and blankets from his bed, and he decides that maybe hell wash them while theyre off his bed and hes up tomorrow. for now, though, he pushes them onto the couch and sets up his bed there for the night.

he wanders back into his room and changes into a different hoodie, a different pair of sweatpants, and haphazardly tosses the things he was wearing in the hamper of dirty clothed he hasnt done yet. (he should probably do those.….maybe. later.) he carefully grabs his favourite stuffed bear from where it lays on the mattress he just sort of stripped and he walks back out to the living room with them and sets himself up there, makes sure to close the blinds and curtains so theres less light that would shine through in the morning when the sun finally peeks out, before he finally lays down for the fourth night of being here alone.

his phone says its late after twelve now. its dark outside, and the house is warm, hes warm, and hes comfortable. he doesnt think about how it took an hour for him to sleep because he was busy thinking about the drunk phone call from earlier, in which his friends were all having fun without him. hes so tired, and he sleeps until three the next afternoon.

the loneliness on his skin that bled through tears slips off onto the couch when it runs out of skin to bury and soak into. it makes a home in the cushions and in the rug below that it falls onto, and by the time the day shadows it from sight with temporary new things to do, it will have found itself already thriving and drowning the man it started from.


End file.
